


Our Last Family Bonding Experience

by viola1516



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viola1516/pseuds/viola1516
Summary: Created for stanuary, prompt is con.Stan runs into some trouble with the cops, only to be saved by up and coming con artists, Dipper and Mabel Pines.





	Our Last Family Bonding Experience

“Say,” Stan began, pushing open the door to the upstairs bedroom, “how’d you two like to help me with a little project?”

The twins looked up from their respective whatever they were doing, each curious in their own way. 

Dipper narrowed his eyes. “What kind of project?” he asked, immediately suspicious. 

Stan didn’t like the distrust in Dipper’s voice, but, as far as he was concerned, Dipper had already taken the bait. Stan had enough con artistry experience under his belt to know that getting someone’s attention was half the battle.

Mabel, on the other hand, was excited, like a puppy. “Is it an art project?” she demanded, jumping off of her bed and bounding up to Stan, eyes bright. 

“Uhh… sure.” Counterfeiting money wasn’t exactly arts and crafts, but whatever she wanted to call it was fine by Stan. 

Dipper still wasn’t convinced. “Do we get a choice in this?”

“Nope. Consider it a family bonding experience.” _Heh, being a guardian is fun,_ Stan thought, turning and leading down the way down the stairs. 

Mabel immediately began peppering Stan with questions.

“What kind of art project is this? Will there be glitter? Do you need my hot glue gun?”

“Uh, that’s okay, Mabel,” Stan said, glancing over his shoulder at the twins. “We’re gonna be painting.”

“Oooh!” Mabel squealed, making Stan winced from the feedback in his hearing aid. _How is she so loud?_

“Dipper! Did you hear that? You _love_ painting!” 

“What are we gonna be painting?” Dipper asked, more curious than suspicious at this point. 

“Uhh… historical scenes. Presidents.”

Stan could practically hear Dipper’s eyes narrowing. “Why the sudden interest in our founding fathers?” 

But Mabel jumped in and saved Stan from coming up with an excuse. “Oh c’mon, Dipper, lighten up!” _Bless this kid._ “Stan just wants to bond with us! Not everything with him is breaking the law, right Grunkle Stan?”

_Damnit._

Stan’s con man skills kicked in reflexively. “That’s right, Mabel!” he replied, giving his enthusiastic great-niece a toothy grin before leading the twins to the rickety old shed in the backyard. _Just some good ol’ fashioned historical fiction._

“So why aren’t we painting in the Shack?” Dipper asked apprehensively as Stan led the way inside. _Kid asks too many questions,_ Stan thought as he turned on the harsh fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling.

_Cause the cops might see,_ Stan added to himself. “Special paint,” he muttered noncommittally, rummaging around under the loose floorboard for the monetary paper he’d precut last week. 

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Stan began, paint and paper laid out on the table. “Here’s your example.” He pulled out a 100 dollar bill and set it down. “We’re going to copy this. I want your best art skills, and I’m lookin’ at you Mabel!” Mabel nodded, excited, and set to work painting her likeness of the Benjamin Franklin. 

Dipper, on the other hand, had finally figured out what was going on, and was staring at Stan with a mix of awe, shock, and disdain. “Grunkle Stan, are we _counterfeiting money?_ ” 

“I told you kid,” Stan intoned, “we’re _painting_ today.” Stan made a show of gesturing to the table, where Mabel had stopped working, and was staring at Stan, expression unreadable. 

“This is illegal,” Dipper squeaked, backing away from the table. 

Stan sighed, mentally counting to ten. “Alright, consider this recreating history. We’re not counterfeiting, we’re… taking part in a study of a big part of our nation’s history! That’s right up your alley, kid.”

Dipper, slightly appeased, looked down at the table and then back up at Stan. “So we’re not going to be using this money?”

_No, I just made it for a huge game of Monopoly._

“Of course not!” Stan said, crossing his fingers behind his back. _What he doesn’t know what won’t hurt him._

“Now come on! I want to see your best artwork!” Stan looked over Mabel’s shoulder. “You call that Ben Franklin?” he exclaimed. “He looks like a woman!”

Just then, Stan heard the distinct sound of a police siren coming from the Mystery Shack driveway. 

_Ah son of a--_

Scrambling, Stan snatched up all of their “art supplies” and stowed them away under the floorboards before going outside to meet those stupid cops that were always snooping around. 

“Grunkle Stan, what--” Dipper began, startled. 

“That’s enough for today, I think,” Stan said, straightening his tie and exiting the shed with a grin plastered on his face. 

“What can I do for you today, officers?” Stan asked brightly, Mr. Mystery persona resumed. _Good for nothing busybodies._

“Well, _Mister Pines_ ,” Blubs sneered, “after talking with you last week about your _art shed,_ which, by the way, _still_ isn’t up to code, we started asking around town. And it turns out that you haven’t been selling art in Gravity Falls!”

_You’ve gotta be kidding me._

Stan mentally pinched the bridge of his nose. These stupid cops had come snooping around last week while Stan was… painting. In a spur of the moment lie, Stan had told them he was an up and coming artist on the side. 

“Grunkle Stan, what’s going on?” came Dipper’s voice, as he made his way from the shed with Mabel close behind him. 

“Just having a friendly chat with the local law enforcement,” Stan replied through clenched teeth. 

“Ah! Little shed people!” cried Durland, jabbing his nightstick in the twins’ direction. 

“Calm down now,” Blubs interjected, placing a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “We talked about this, remember? They’re children.”

_Yeesh,_ Stan thought. _Our “taxes” at work._

“Speakin’ of, though,” Blubs added, “who exactly _are_ these children, and _what_ are they doing in your shed?”

“Well, you see, uh, officers,” Stan began, pulling at his collar. “They’re--”

“We’re his great niece and nephew!” Mabel exclaimed. “I’m Mabel, and this is my brother Dipper!”

“Mabel what are you-”

Stan watched, amazed, as Mabel grabbed her brother’s arm. _“Just trust me, Dipper,”_ she whispered, gaze flickering to the police officers and then back to Dipper. The two shared a look before Dipper nodded slightly.

“Yeah, officers,” Dipper began, “our uncle is an avid painter in his spare time.”

“But you can’t rush genius, you know?” Mabel chimed in.

Stan had to keep his mouth from dropping open. The whole exchange between the twins hadn’t taken more than 10 seconds, and now here they were, dare he say it, _lying for him?_ Stan couldn’t believe it. _Gotta start em young,_ he thought. He didn’t know the twins well-- they’d only been in town four days-- but Stan was proud. His niece and nephew, conning the police. 

“I’m sure you’ll see some of his work sometime in the near future,” Mabel was saying. 

“It’ll be on sale in the Mystery Shack!” Dipper added. “So keep any eye out for it!”

Blubs looked at the twins, and then back at Stan. 

“See?” Stan said weakly. “I was telling the truth, officers.”

“Well,” he said, “that’s good enough for me.”

“But what about the shed people?” Durland asked as they headed back to the car.

“I told you…”

Stan sighed with relief as the cops drove away. “I gotta hand it to ya, kids,” he began, wiping his forehead, “that was some show you pulled just now.”

“Yeah, we saved your butt from the cops, you mean,” Dipper replied with a smirk on his face. 

“I could have handled them on my own,” Stan said, indignant. _Lord knows I have plenty of experience._

“Oh, come on, Grunkle Stan, we totally saved you!” Mabel exclaimed. “Now you owe us ice cream privileges for a month!”

“Yeah,” Dipper added, “and you have to promise to stop making counterfeit money.”

Stan rolled his eyes. _There’s the motive._

“You can have ice cream for a day.”

Mabel crossed her arms. “Three weeks.” 

“One week.”

“Done.”

“Alright, now I need you two to help me clean up the gift shop,” Stan began. “I have a tour bus coming through in--” 

“What about the counterfeiting?” Dipper demanded, arms crossed. 

“Ok, fine, kid,” Stan grumbled. “I won’t do it anymore.” _When you’re around._

“Now, like I was saying, I need you two to clean up the gift shop. I got a tour bus coming in in about an hour.”

But Mabel had already taken off. “My ice cream privileges start now!” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the Shack. 

“Hey, Mabel, wait up!” Dipper cried, running after his sister. “Mine too, Grunkle Stan!”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose as the sounds of the twins’ laughter faded off into the house. _I gotta hand it to them,_ Stan thought, trudging towards the gift shop, _they conned the great Stan Pines._

Picking up a broom and getting to work on the floor of the gift shop, Stan couldn’t help but feel proud of these kids that he’d only known for four days. The summer had only begun, and the Mystery Shack, for the first time in a long time, as filled with laughter and light. 

Stan’s mood quickly changed as he heard the crashing of a lamp somewhere in the den. 

_“Dipper did it!”_

_“Mabel, no I didn’t!”_

Stan sighed. He could already feel a headache coming on; he didn’t think the Shack had ever been this noisy.

It was certainly going to be one heck of a summer.


End file.
